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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28834842">From your head to your toes</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ioascc/pseuds/ioascc'>ioascc</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>A Call for Crisp Statistics [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Episode: s04e01 Lazarus Rising, Gen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 13:28:35</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>729</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28834842</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ioascc/pseuds/ioascc</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>He starts with the hairs on his head. The freckles that pepper his hairline.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Castiel/Dean Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>A Call for Crisp Statistics [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2108286</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>SPNColdestHits</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>From your head to your toes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This month’s entry for SPNColdestHits! The prompt was; shipping forecast, write about when your ship first met! Extra points for using lightning in a bottle. </p><p>Thank you to Emblue_sparks, Feathers7501, &amp; abnormal_ace who read and continue to cheerlead. &lt;3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <strong>From your head to your toes</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Touching down, the Righteous Man’s fighting and angry soul tucked into his essence, Castiel reaches forth and touches the still body that lies beneath the earth. Dean Winchester’s corporeal form lies there, the air in his lungs stale, the flesh and skin pooling underneath the body. The maggots digging and boring holes into the flesh. If he was human, he would retch. Scream at the sky at the crime of having something so beautiful rot and decay.</p><p> </p><p>But he isn’t human…</p><p> </p><p>Instead, the angel burns all the lesser beings away. He embraces the corpse and envelops it in his grace. Wrapping himself around this poor body, so weak, so frail… he brings it back to its glory. </p><p> </p><p>He starts with the hairs on his head. His grace, parts of himself, card through each string, and the soft blonde hairs wave gently. Castiel is gentle, caring already about the soul in his charge even though he knows he shouldn’t. He shouldn't care... but touching Dean Winchester's soul was as if he was seeing God's glory. He moves on to the freckles that pepper the Righteous Man’s hairline places them back exactly where they should be. Soft kisses from the sun, down over the slope of his nose and the arches of his cheeks. </p><p> </p><p>The angel of Thursday removes the film from the verdant green eyes. Restoring them to their splendor, though they don’t truly shine without the soul vibrating behind them. He feels the flash of wanting to see them shine. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Soon.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>He dances across those cupid’s bow lips, lush and soft. To the edges and corners of his ears. The dip of his neck, where his shoulder meets the hollow of his neck. Over his chest, breathing life back into the lungs… so the Righteous Man can breathe, laugh, scream. Castiel spends time on the heart, soothing it to beat once more, whispering that it’ll be ok. He touches the deep rosebud colored nipples, down the slopes and over the belly. Caressing all the organs, smoothing and coaxing it all to come back. His grace whispers to each one, commanding it once again to function and serve. Muscles spasm, organs jerk, and blood is cleansed to be of use once again. </p><p> </p><p>His grace runs over the Righteous Man’s genitalia, a source of pride and prowess. Feeling a burst of humor, he tells them to behave. </p><p> </p><p>Castiel moves on, down the legs, and over the knees. Feeling fascinated by the bow of the bone. Over the shins, and to the soles of Dean’s feet… weary and worn from all his travels. </p><p> </p><p>He puts it all together. Knits his clothing together, restoring all that is physically Dean Winchester. </p><p> </p><p>Castiel turns to the soul, the Righteous Man, and he cleanses the bruises, the scars of Hell, to the best of his abilities. He can only do so much as a simple seraph and laments that he cannot do more for the soul in his charge. Dean soothes under his administrations, settling, and clutching on to Castiel’s essence. So Castiel moves quickly… the soul lulled into a sense of calm he attempts to press the soul gently back into its restored body. </p><p> </p><p>Dean howls in horror and fights against Castiel, now knowing what is transpiring. Unwilling to leave Castiel, the angel has no choice but to slam the soul back into its body. It’s like capturing lightning in a bottle, the power ricochets around them, knocking the trees down like a man’s nuclear bomb. The soul is terrified and reaches back out to Castiel, crying to not leave him in the dirt… alone and scared. </p><p> </p><p>Castiel strikes down once more, using his heavenly force to command the soul to bid and bend to his will. To accept the body once again. </p><p> </p><p>Dean Winchester cries out brokenly, calling for mercy, <em> for Castiel</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Slamming the soul, pressing his grace so close that it burns into the flesh, a handprint materializes… a visible representation of Castiel’s claim. To comfort the soul, to let the Righteous Man know he will return. Quieted, Castiel ushers the soul back into its repaired shell. Stays close when his charge opens his eyes, gasps for breath. </p><p> </p><p>He watches as the light shines back into those beautiful green eyes, leaves pieces of himself to guide and strengthen the man through the grave. </p><p> </p><p>They’ll meet again, soon.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
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